


The Pleasure Box

by GemmaRose



Series: Kinktober 2019 [15]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Aftercare, Come Inflation, Come Swallowing, Consensual, Double Oral Penetration, Double Vaginal Penetration, Gags, Glory Hole, Hand Jobs, Knotting, M/M, Marathon Sex, Massage, Multi, Multiple Partners, Nonverbal Communication, Oral Fixation, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Restraints, Rough Sex, Sleepy Sex, Spike Modifications (Transformers), Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-03 03:00:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21172304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: A box set alongside one of the few paths through the plains, marked 'For Public Use' with a mouth and valve on display, isn't exactly a normal sight even on Unicron, but it's also not unusual enough to question.He didn't expect to get the attention of so many Megatrons though.





	The Pleasure Box

“I’ll be back to get you later.” his sparkmate said, patting the top of the box he’d helped Optimus into. “Can you see the timer?”

Optimus glanced aside at the little digital display counting down the cycles he had left, and pinged an affirmative. Ratchet would gripe tomorrow about risks and stupidity, but this was as controlled an indulgence as he could manage and he was going to take full advantage of it. He shifted slightly, settling his folded legs in a more comfortable position, and wondered again where his partner had procured the harness holding his aft tight to the opening cut in the back of the box, baring his valve to anyone and anything that came by. The gag which held his mouth open was far simpler to come across, the Swindle who Bulkhead had brought in did a decent business in quality interface aids, but he didn’t stock anything particularly elaborate. Perhaps it had been a special order through him?

Regardless, Optimus was excited. Ever since they’d crashed here, he’d not had a single mega-cycle where he could just be himself, a nobody spacebridge repair mech. The mantle of leadership for their little outpost had become a full-time job as it expanded into a small city, and everyone knew his face, everyone looked to him for advice. Sealed up in a box though, with a partial mute on his vocaliser and nothing but his mouth and valve exposed, nobody would know it was him. There were no expectations, and if he knew anything about the mechs who lived topside in the plains it was that they were not the gentle sort. He shivered in anticipation, letting his field heat with lust and spreading it as wide as it would go, a beacon to all and sundry that there was a mech ripe for fragging in the area.

He didn’t have to wait long for his the first mech to find him, and he almost wished he’d asked to be able to see out of the box so he could know who was fragging him. Only almost though, the two-way anonymity was half the thrill. rough fingers probed at his valve, and Optimus shivered, field heating as he let it contract to a more natural relaxed state. “Are you some strange new tesson?” the mech asked, and Optimus felt a bolt of charge shoot right up his spinal strut at that voice. _Megatron’s_ voice. He pinged back a negative, and shivered as Megatron’s fingers sank deeper into his quivering valve, lubricant squelching out around them as they spread, testing the give of his calipers.

“You Unicronians are so strange.” Megatron muttered, withdrawing his fingers, and Optimus’s fans kicked up several notches as he heard the distinct sound of a modesty panel transforming away. “But I’m not fool enough to turn down a free frag.” the head of his spike pressed against Optimus’s valve rim, and he moaned at the feel of it, wide and blunt, with a firm edge that felt interesting against his rim and would surely light every node he had on its way through his valve.

Megatron thrusted in without warning, forcing Optimus’s calipers open as his blunt, thick spike speared deep, and Optimus moaned wantonly. This wasn’t even all of it, Megatron’s hips hadn’t met his yet. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?” he teased, and with the gag in his mouth and mute on his vocaliser Optimus could only moan. “Don’t you worry, I’ll fill you up.” Megatron promised, and Optimus let his field flare with excitement. Megatron’s first thrusts were slow and deliberate, each one sinking deeper until the flattened head of his spike pressed up against Optimus’s ceiling node. He rolled his hips against Optimus’s, drawing another eager moan from his vocaliser, and then rocked Optimus in his restraints with a sharp snap of his hips.

“So small.” Megatron purred, pulling out fully and resting the head of his spike against Optimus’s rim. “You can’t even take two thirds of my spike.” he pressed in again, this time faster, and didn’t wait before pulling out near fully. Each thrust was made with enough power to rock Optimus’s whole frame, and he moaned as loud as he wanted as Megatron grew faster in his thrusts, more wild, seeking his own pleasure without heed for Optimus’s. Optimus didn’t even care. Megatron overloaded deep inside him, and Optimus gasped as he felt that glorious spike grinding deeper into him, pumping transfluid almost directly into his gestation tank’s open port.

Even just one overload and he could feel the weight of it, the warmth that radiated from the active nanites now resting in his internal forge. Megatron pulled out with a groan, and Optimus shivered from helm to pede as those rough fingers returned to his valve, pulling at the rim and- admiring it? The field felt appreciative enough for that, and Optimus’s fans whined higher. One downside to the box, the circulation wasn’t great. He was already running hot and would only be getting hotter as the mega-cycle progressed, as more and more mechs came across him and used him.

“I could bring you home with me.” the Megatron purred, and Optimus's spark leapt into his throat as those fingers continued to play with his valve. “It would be nice to have a mech as willing as you to burn charge with.”

Optimus forcibly reigned in his field, trembling at the idea of staying in the box for longer than planned. He wasn’t sure if it was a good tremble or a bad one, but the concept certainly had him feeling _something_. Nobody but his sparkmate could move the box though, they’d made sure of that. It wasn’t the intended use for spark signature locks, but it worked well enough not even Bulkhead had been able to separate the box from its base when it was empty.

“Oh you’re not taking this anywhere.” another mech said from in front of him, and Optimus’s spark spun faster. _Another_ Megatron? How many were there on this crazy planet? “Didn’t you see the sign?” the new Megatron smacked the front of the box, where Optimus himself had painted the glyphs ‘For Public Use’ in bold black strokes.

“No.” the first Megatron snorted, and Optimus heard his heavy tread circle around to the front to see the sign. “Hmf, I could still take it if I wanted.” there was the sound of a fusion cannon spooling up, and Megatron stepping back. “I said _could_. You have your fun.”

“Smart mech.” the new Megatron purred, and Optimus sighed and relaxed as the fusion cannon powered down. “Now, let’s see what you’ve got.” a spike pressed into his mouth, and Optimus gagged as Megatron’s hips kept moving forward after hitting the back of his intake, spike pressing micrometer by micrometer down his intake. He lifted a hand to his neck, and felt the bulge of Megatron’s spike between his jaw and the mute strapped to his intake. He moaned, laving his glossa over the surprisingly unadorned underside of Megatron’s spike, and did his best to swallow around the length in his mouth.

“He’s free to use.” Megatron said to another mech, and Optimus moaned louder into the spike in his mouth as the mech behind him sank in an oddly bulbous spike which was too short to reach his ceiling node but almost too wide for this valve to handle in the middle. “Ohhh, you’re good at this.” Megatron moaned, starting his hips moving with a gentle roll. Optimus would’ve beamed if his lips weren’t stretched around a spike nearly as big around as his fist.

“Feels good back here, too.” a stranger said, picking up his own pace slowly but steadily. Megatron fragged Optimus’s mouth as deep as he’d fit, and then ground a little deeper anyways, and Optimus loved every nano-klik of it. Optimus sucked and moaned enthusiastically, rocking between the two spikes, and the one in his valve overloaded first, pumping an impressive volume of transfluid into him as the mech stilled and- was his spike swelling? Oprimus gagged sightly on Megatron’s next thrust as he realized yes, that was definitely the mech’s spike widening at his valve rim and stretching it even further.

A knot mod. He’d heard of them but never met a mech who had one, or a tesson for that matter. His valve rim and the bit of valve within which were stretched to their limit suddenly felt a lot more sensitive, with firm derma pressed up against every single node and shifting minutely with every little thrust of his fragger’s hips. Each little thrust, which was accompanied by another spurt of transfluid. Primus, only two mechs and he was already flirting with 15% capacity, and this one would push him even farther. He wanted to be pushed though, wanted to test his limits, see just how much his frame could hold. How it would feel when it all came rushing out. 

“Primus, you’re a needy one.” Megatron laughed, moving his hips more with his thrusts now, giving Optimus time and space to properly lavish the spike in his mouth with attention. “You just _love_ spike, don’t you?” Optimus flared his field in affirmation, and Megatron pulled back so barely any of his total length was in Optimus’s mouth. “In that case, how about you make me overload with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

Had Optimus the ability, he would’ve purred that it was his pleasure to do so. With the mute on however, all he could manage was an affirmative hum and flare of eagerness. He sucked on and licked at Megatron’s spike, all but worshipping it with his mouth and glossa, savoring its girth and texture. It did have a texture, he could now tell. A subtle one all over, as opposed to distinct nubs or ridges. It felt good on his glossa, a buzz not unlike static, and Optimus moaned as he sucked hard, field flaring proud when he drew a matching moan from Megatron and heard two heavy arms hit the top of the box.

Megatron’s spike was still in perfect sucking position though, and so he kept on going, delighting as much in the act itself as in the noises Megatron made while he did it. The taste of his pre-fluid was almost intoxicating as well, and Optimus hummed happily when Megatron overloaded in his mouth. He swallowed as much as he could, but when Megatron pulled away Optimus could only moan and let transfluid spill from the lower rim of the gag which held his mouth open, tracking down his chin to puddle on the little ledge where he rested it.

“Shove over, it’s my turn.” another deep voice growled.

“No, it’s mine! I was here first!”

“You could always share.” the mech still pumping transfluid into his valve and gestation tank suggested, voice staticky and shaking from his extended overload.

“We can try.” one of the next mechs agreed, and Orion’s optics widened as two fat spike tips pressed to his mouth. Not only were they both impressive, they were managing to both fit into the ring gag, which he _knew_ was not big enough for both of them. Did it stretch? That was the only answer he could think of.

The mech with the thicker spike stilled with their bulbous tip resting on his glossa and he licked at it eagerly, ran his glossa over the slit and dipped it into the channels that ran from the front of the spike down over the bulge of the tip onto the shaft. “Ooohhhh, this one likes me.” the mech moaned, then their spike jerked in his mouth as a clang of metal resounded outside the box.

“Quit hogging!” the one with the more slender spike complained, and Optimus obligingly shifted his attention to the spike digging into the inside of his cheek. It lacked the odd bulbous tip of the thicker one, instead coming to a more typical tapered point, but the length which its owner kept rocking deeper into his mouth, towards his intake, was unusually narrow and felt segmented under his glossa. It was easy to lavish with attention, easy to allow down his intake as he sucked on both spikes with a pleased hum. His lips ached where they stretched around the two spikes, but he hardly noticed and certainly didn’t _care_ in the slightest, not when he had a spike down his intake and another filling the rest of his mouth.

He shivered as the spike in his valve began to depressurise, the mech stumbling back only to be replaced by another. Two spikes sank into his valve in one thrust, and he overloaded on the spot, moaning around the spikes in his mouth as their owners neared their own climaxes. The one with the bulbous tip overloaded first, most of the transfluid spilling out of Optimus’s mouth since his intake was blocked by the other spike shoved down it, and Optimus whined slightly as it flowed down his chin and puddled on the ledge under his jaw. The spike down his intake overloaded soon after though, and his whine turned into a moan as strange, thick transfluid flowed down into his fuel tank.

The paired spikes in his valve seemed to pulse as the ones in his mouth withdrew, and Optimus moaned loudly as it felt like they grew bigger, stretched him further. He braced his hands against the front of the box and ground back against the mech fragging him, so far beyond caring what noises slid from his vocaliser as he did so. The mechs around him were talking amongst themselves, but the glyphs slid in one audial and out the other without processing, the haze of charge rendering them little more than tone and intent. Optimus whined, and another spike was fed into his waiting mouth, this one heavily textured and so thick even just the tip grinding against the back of his intake felt enough to fill it up.

He choked momentarily as it pressed forward, forcing his intake to stretch to accommodate, but before he could lift a hand to feel the bulge in his throat the spikes in his valve were overloading, and both his hands flew to his abdomen, swelling with the sheer volume of transfluid gushing into him. He moaned loudly, muffled by the spike in his mouth, and raised a hand to massage at the length pressing still deeper into his intake, pushing the limits of what his frame could take. The spikes in his valve withdrew, replaced by another, and Optimus let himself drift, optics shuttered, processor occupied solely with the pleasure of being fragged so thoroughly and continuously. His tanks filled further with each overload pumped into his frame, abdomen pushing out to fill the space between his chassis and legs, forcing him to settle his knees as far apart as they would go to minimise the pressure, and though there were lulls the haze of charge didn’t fade.

He heard voices he recognised, both faintly and intimately. Megatron many times, but each with a different spike, a different rhythm. He rubbed the straining derma of his abdomen, pressing gently on the outline of his swollen gestation tank to ease the discomfort of being stuffed so very, very full. And still mechs came, treating him to the taste and texture of their spikes, ravaging his valve without knowing or caring who he was. It was complete and utter bliss, and he wished that it could go on forever.

It couldn’t, of course, but that didn’t make him want it any less.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, the lusty fields pressed close around his confines dissipated into nothing, and a familiar warm field enveloped him, pinging for his status. He pinged back contentment, and heard a rich, deep chuckle before a thumb swiped over his transfluid-coated lower lip. “I bet you are.” he purred, and Optimus’s fans struggled to spin faster as his core temperature jumped, valve clenching and mouth lubricating at the sound of his lover’s modesty panel transforming away. “Up for one last round?” he asked, and Optimus pinged an emphatic _yes_ at him, opening his mouth wider.

He moaned shamelessly as he took his lover’s spike in his mouth, swallowing it easily to the root in a single smooth thrust and licking at the pebbled underside, the ridges over the top scraping the roof of his mouth and raw inside of his intake. “Primus, you’re good at this.” Optimus grinned as best he could around the gag, and bobbed his helm slightly, encouraging his lover to move those lovely, powerful hips and properly ravish him. His lover complied, and Optimus moaned again as he worked his lover’s spike with his mouth, licking and sucking whenever that glorious spike stilled, urging him closer and closer to what would surely be a powerful overload. His fuel tank was already strained, overfull and aching, but he wanted to swallow as much of his sparkmate’s transfluid as he could, wanted to taste it and know that he’d brought his lover that much pleasure.

“Frag, not yet.” his lover gasped, and Optimus whined as the spike was pulled from his mouth. “I want to treat you in your valve, too.”

Optimus squirmed as much as he could as his sparkmate walked around behind him, his motion severely limited by the jutting swell of his gestation tank, pushed to easily the size of a full term carriage and filling what had started off as empty space in the box. “Oh, you have been popular.” his sparkmate laughed, three fingers sliding easily into his loose valve and stretching the exhausted calipers. More transfluid oozed out, and Optimus whined, rocking back against the fingers that weren’t _enough_ right now.

“Impatient, are we?” his lover teased, and Optimus shivered as that delicious spike sank smoothly into his valve, calipers struggling to clamp down on it. “Should’ve put some sort of counter on this, Primus knows you haven’t been keeping track of how many spikes you sucked.”

He hadn’t, the thought hadn’t even occurred to him, but now the thought swam through the haze of charge that Ratchet would be properly upset about that tomorrow. Optimus tried to chuckle, but it came out a breathy moan as some of his calipers finally unstuck and brought the sensitive lining of his valve tight against his lover’s spike, drawing a deep moan from the mech. Large fingers shoved into his mouth, and he couldn’t suck with the gag in place but he could easily lap at them with his glossa, moaning as sparks of charge leapt from armour seams straight onto his glossa, setting off random sensors and filling his mouth with phantom tastes. He redoubled his efforts, moaning when his lover jabbed his fingers deeper.

“Come on, lover.” his sparkmate purred, targeting his ceiling node with each powerful thrust. “Overload for me.”

Optimus did, valve cycling down as well as it could, and cried out as his sparkmate shifted and thrust directly into his gestation tank port, overloading straight into his tank and pressurising it further. He went limp as his sparkmate pulled out, spike followed by a little gush of transfluid that escaped before the port could reseal, and only the rustle of fabric informed him that the box had been covered up. The box shook as it was lifted onto a low cart, the latches to its base coming undone with ease now that the proper mech was doing the lifting, and Orion shivered as he felt himself being moved. They would have to go right through to where Omega rested in the center of town to reach their habsuite, hence the covering, and though he knew he was far too well secured to come out by accident the thought was... exciting.

“Field close.” his lover murmured as they began to descend into the caves that hid their humble home from both tessons and the mechs they’d corrupted, and Optimus complied, fully muting his vocaliser as well to be on the safe side. Familiar fields washed over him, accompanied by equally familiar voices making small talk, occasionally asking what was in the box, which at first worried him but apparently his lover had anticipated, answering with an easy laugh and “A gift for Optimus.” which, well, was half true. This experience had been the best kind of gift.

Eventually the door of their habsuite sealed behind them, and Optimus shifted in the box as he heard his sparkmate moving around the hab, moving him around, getting things ready. At length the lid of the box opened, and Optimus sensed that the lights had been set to low but still kept his optics shuttered. “Primus, you’re a mess.” his sparkmate murmured, pulling on the lid until the back of the box came loose from the rest as well, though it didn’t go far before the harness around Optimus’s hips caught it in place.

“This first.” he murmured, and Optimus sighed as the mute was removed from his vocaliser, the component automatically resetting with a soft click. “Did you have fun?” he asked, and Optimus gave a pleased hum.

“I enjoyed myself _immensely_.” he said, holding still so the harness around his hips could be undone. He startled slightly when the backside of the box hit the floor with a sharp clang, but a large warm hand was on his back the moment after, soothing away the tension of battle protocols attempting to spin up when his frame was in no state for them.

“Glad to hear.” his sparkmate murmured, undoing the gag and working it out of his mouth. Optimus ran his glossa over his denta and pursed his lips, working his jaw to remove the slight stiffness which had settled in. “Now, optics on.”

Optimus rumbled his engine low and discontent, but did so as he was lifted from the box. The first thing he saw was his sparkmate’s chestplate, shining white with that bright red badge over his spark that never ceased to surprise and delight Optimus. His trailed his optics up his lover’s frame slowly, taking in deep blue accents which looked all the more vibrant for having spent most of the mega-cycle in complete darkness, until he reached the handsome face he loved so much, fond blue optics shaded by a deep blue helm.

“How do you feel?” Megatron asked, and Optimus rested his helm against his lover’s arm.

“Tired. Sticky.”

“I bet.” Megatron walked towards the large mirror someone had gifted them when they moved in together, and Optimus turned his helm to look at himself in it. He looked about as good as he felt, dull silver marking a wide streak down his front from his chin to the outermost curve of his abdomen, then picking back up on his mid thighs and continuing from there. He couldn’t see his aft, but he had a feeling it was similarly marked, especially since he could feel transfluid and lubricant dripping from his valve even now. “You hardly look a bit like a leader now.” Megatron purred, and Optimus let his optic shutters slide shut.

“If only.”

“If only.” Megatron pressed a kiss to the flat of his finial. “Now, do you want to bathe first or let me loosen up your servos?”

“Servos.” Optimus mumbled, nuzzling the edge of Megatron’s chestplate. All the habsuites in Omega Supreme were sized for Autobots, and regardless of the differences between their home universes Megatron was still Decepticon-sized. The berth had been easy enough to upgrade to one that would stand up to active use by a Decepticon, but the washrack was a lost cause. He let out a soft sigh as Megatron laid him on their berth, chassis supported by pillows so he wasn’t lying directly on his overstuffed tanks, and couldn’t help but let out a low moan as his sparkmate’s sure, strong hands set to work stretching his legs, easing tension out of stiff cables and gently un-seizing his knee servos.

Megatron’s hands moved up his frame from there, gently but firmly pressing hidden tensions from his frame, and Optimus found himself drifting closer and closer to recharge. Paradoxically, his charge also rose with each skilled press of Megatron’s hands and fingers, and by the time Megatron reached his arms Optimus was squirming, struggling to get his jellied legs under him to lift his aft towards his sparkmate.

“You’re not muted anymore, you know.” Megatron said conversationally, and Optimus huffed.

“Could you frag me again?” he mumbled, and Megatron sighed.

“Greedy little thing, you are.” he muttered, but he did lift Optimus gently into his lap. Optimus sprawled back against his chest, making himself nice and comfortable, and looked up at Megatron imploringly. “How does a mech your size produce so _much_ charge?”

Optimus shrugged, grinning up at his lover. “It’s just something you do to me.”

“Hmm, but I wasn’t there with you today.” Megatron teased, wrapping his hand around Optimus’s spike and stroking it slowly. “There must be something else about you.”

“Mm, not _you_ you, but there were Megatrons.” Optimus mumbled, barely able to keep his optic shutters open even with the amount of charge thrumming in his frame.

“Should I be worried?” Megatron chuckled, his field pure warmth and affection, and Optimus shook his helm.

“Like you best.” he yawned, then moaned softly as Megatron wrung one final overload from his frame.

“Rest, Optimus.” Megatron rumbled under him, rubbing one of his shoulders comfortingly. “I’ve got you.”

Optimus purred his engine at a pleased pitch, and let himself fall into recharge.


End file.
